


And When Once We Thought We Walked Alone ('No Regrets' Remix)

by Yggdrasil (retrollama)



Series: The Wayfarers' Army [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunk Rodney, Fugitives, Insecure John, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Season/Series 01, Remix, Rodney can't handle his beer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25240381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retrollama/pseuds/Yggdrasil
Summary: "You're a pain in the ass."It really shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did. Still, he couldn't help but wonder why Rodney had broken him out of prison in the first place.-Part 3 of my ami_ven 'On the Run' Remix series.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Series: The Wayfarers' Army [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/254962
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56





	And When Once We Thought We Walked Alone ('No Regrets' Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [No Regrets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142593) by [ami_ven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven). 



> Hello again! Long time no see! Life has been absolutely insane since I last updated this series, now more than ever. I've had the first part of this written on my computer for the better part of three years and I finally got around to finishing it up. I'm starting to introduce a few more of the off book ideas in this one and I hope you can bear with me while I sort through all I had planned to do with it but for now, I hope this lengthy, long overdue update will hold you out.
> 
> As always, this is a remix of the amazing series by the lovely ami_ven. You should definitely check out their stuff as well as this would not exist without them.
> 
> Hope everyone is staying safe out there in this crazy world we currently live in. Please enjoy!

_And when once we thought we walked alone  
We have found our brother’s kin  
Creatures broken in their own  
Have found the light again_

It took them another few weeks to come up with a plan for surviving in Pegasus.

While it was a good idea to take the address database, John decided against going to any of Atlantis’ already established trade partners, fearing that someone may mention having seen them to one of the expedition teams. It might not have been a bad thing (someone might tell Teyla or Elizabeth and they might agree to take them back and keep it quiet) except Sheppard knew that all of the men and women under his command, save maybe Ford, were much better at following orders than he was and they would be forced to report the sighting to whoever was the new ranking officer on Atlantis and they would send word back to Earth and, really, it would just make their lives hard.

Instead, they went through the database and looked at all the worlds listed as ‘non-hostile’ and found PGX-713. They had visited it in the early days of the Expedition, a small trading settlement who were fearful that their presence would bring the Wraith and refused to trade with them. Luckily, it had been Markham’s team that had made contact and they would have no reason to suspect that he and Rodney were anything other than two men with a lot of wheat and game looking to trade.

John took over controls of the jumper, flying them through the ‘gate and set it down cloaked inside a small forest clearing. He hefted a sack filled with the strange turkey-like creatures onto his shoulder and Rodney grabbed the bundles of wheat. He smiled as they walked through the forest toward the settlement as McKay whined about how heavy the load was and how long they’d been walking and how humid it was and the general shittiness of the universe.

It was good to hear him being his usual self again. The trip to Pegasus had been filled with long silences the like of which John had never had with Rodney before. Their weeks on the farming planet (“I’m calling it Wheatopia.” “No, you’re not.”) seemed to clear the air and get him back into a good mood. John couldn’t say he wasn’t happy with this new development either.

“…and honestly, we must look like complete freaks right now. We don’t blend in at all,” Rodney finished just as John tuned back in.

He was right of course. Sheppard, in his jeans and button up, and McKay, in t-shirt and trousers, looked even less like natives than their expedition teams had when they first arrived.

“We’ll have to buy some new clothes before we get anything else,” John agreed. He grimaced a little when he thought about the leather on leather look that seemed to be the Pegasus standard. Judging from the scowl on Rodney’s face, he was thinking the same thing.

They finally managed to find the road leading into town and soon found a local to ask for directions to the market. When they showed the food they had to trade they were immediately welcomed with bright smiles and led to a large canopied open air market with boars roasting over spits, leather tanners working at their frames and even a blacksmith hammering heated iron into shape spread in amongst the fresh fruit sellers, the pottery stalls and the fabric weavers.

They decided that they would buy clothes and change before they looked at weapons or food if only so they would look more like Pegasus natives. John managed to find some boots that looked pretty much the same as the combat boots they wore on missions but came almost to the knee and had buckles instead of laces. They traded a turkey each for a set.

Thankfully, they managed to find some trousers that weren’t leather, made instead of a thick, canvas-like material which were laced and cinched over gusseted side panels that ran the length of the thighs. John traded some wheat for a pair in a faded grey-blue (“It’s cadet grey, like in military uniforms. Kinda reminds me of Earth, I guess.”) and Rodney did the same for a distressed laurel green pair. It was incredibly obvious that very few things there were actually new.

For shirts, John picked out a few loose, flowing shirts with stub collars, like something he’d expect to see in some new-age store. He chose a couple of colours just for variety: slate blue, cream and a charcoal. To McKay’s delight none of them seemed to lace past the sternum. Rodney just grabbed two stretched out wool pullovers. One was a deep faded grey with a wide stretched collar and the other a dark seaweed colour with four long rips around the collarbone that McKay was sure weren’t there for fashion despite what the seller insisted.

Their jackets cost them a turkey each, leather which they figured was a pretty good deal. John’s was a hip length brown bomber jacket with a high stand up collar that seemed to be a common fashion for these people. Rodney’s jacket was a little different to what he was used to; it was a leather trench coat that fell to mid-thigh with canvas sleeves to matched the colour of his trousers and the same stand up collar as Sheppard’s had. Rodney would have much rather stayed away from the leather entirely but the inside of the jacket was lined with enough pockets to hold all the items he would normally take in his tac vest.

When he pointed this out to John, the soldier realised that tac vests were one of the few things that McKay had forgotten to pack in his scramble to get them back to Pegasus. They scoured the market but couldn’t find anything resembling the pouch-covered article. Instead, he ended up with what amounted to a utility belt. Rodney had to physically restrain himself from laughing as he took in the pouch laden length of leather.

“That looks like something Batman would’ve owned in 1945,” Rodney mocked good-naturedly.

“It’s just for the things I need quickly,” he defended, “like magazines and bandages. We’ll get some packs to carry everything else.”

The closest thing to a backpack they could find was a drawstring canvas sack with shoulder straps and a flat leather base to stand it upright. Rodney rolled his eyes and muttered something unflattering about the planet’s technological developments while John bought two.

They didn’t end up buying any food, deciding instead that they could just go back to (“Wheatopia.” “No.”) the farming planet to hunt and gather until they could find somewhere with some more sustainable food sources.

The last of their turkeys they spent on information. They trekked back to the jumper to change into their newly acquired ‘incognito clothes’ before heading to the tavern that had been pointed out to them on their way to the market. It was like many of the other taverns they’d been in while in Pegasus; noisy revel makers on one side and gloomy day drinkers on the other while women with platters filled with tankards of ale walked from one end to the other deftly dodging hands from every direction. The whole room reeked of stale beer and too many sweaty men sitting in close quarters. It reminded John of long nights crammed into tents drinking smuggled whiskey to pass the hot desert nights.

It made him feel a little homesick but Rodney grumbling “what in the name of Curie is that smell?” brought the grin back to his face.

“That is the smell of manhood, Rodney, one I’m sure you’ve never experienced,” he teased.

“Please, Major, you of all people should be well aware of my manhood after last night,” he shot back with a smirk. No one would have thought that Rodney McKay would be prone to innuendo but there it was. John barely even had time to open his mouth to give a flabbergasted response when one of the waitresses walked up to them with a smile and asked what they’d like to drink.

“We don’t have any money, unfortunately, but we have wheat,” Rodney replied with an uncomfortable smile. He never could talk to women and he hated being the one to speak with locals. At least, the ones who weren’t scientists.

“Wheat?” the girl asked, confused. John hefted the bag and she nodded in understanding. “Ah, you mean retsa. Don’t worry, we have travellers come through here all the time. A bag of retsa will get you three cups of ale.”

“Deal,” John said with his widest smile. The girl flushed as she hurried away to get their order. Rodney gave him his ‘I’m on to you, Kirk’ look before striding to the stools along the bar, his new coat only adding to the dramatics of the motion as it flared out behind him. John felt his smile soften around the edges and wondered how screwed he was that just a look from Rodney could do that to him.

The waitress returned, handed off the ales, took up the retsa and made off to a back room to store it. The man behind the bar looked them up and down with open curiosity but must have determined them to be no threat. He went back to polishing his cups with a single minded focus, completely ignoring the drunken roughhousing sprawling across his counter.

Rodney took a tentative sip of the ale. His face scrunched up in disgust.

“This tastes like battery acid,” he hissed. Despite his protests, he upended the clay cup and drank it all in three long swallows.

“Can’t be that bad if you’re drinking it like that,” John laughed. Rodney gave an indignant huff.

“It still tastes better than the stuff from Zelinka’s still and I think I’ve earned a drink after these last few months.”

John silently agreed but said, “Zelinka has a still? Why didn’t I know that?”

Rodney waved him off.

“Science department secret. We got together, drank and complained about our military overlords.”

“You complained about me?”

“Only about how straight I thought you were and your stupid hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Can I get you fellas anything else? Something to eat maybe?” the bartender interrupted. He was giving them both an amused smile.

“Actually, yes,” John began, looking sideways at Rodney and placing a hand on his knee to tell him to let John do all the talking. He tried not to be too distracted by the way the muscle bunched under his hand. “We were actually looking for some information. ‘Gate addresses.” The man narrowed his eyes at them, suspicion creeping into his eyes.

“To where?”

“Well, my friend here is really into history and we were hoping to look at some of the ruins of the Ancestor’s cities,” John lied smoothly, squeezing Rodney’s knee when it looked like he was about to interrupt to say he cared nothing for the subject. “Do you happened to know the addresses of any of the Ancient outposts?” The man still looked unsure, but he seemed to relax slightly. This was obviously one of the less sinister requests for information he’d gotten.

“Aye, I know a few,” he nodded slowly. “What do you have to trade for ‘em?” Sheppard fumbled with the sack at his feet and plunked one of the space turkeys on the counter in front of him. The bartender raised a brow expectantly. John narrowed his eyes and put the last turkey with the other. The man grinned. “I’ll go write those down for you, then.”

Before John could question it, he’d swiped up the two birds and meandered off to the back room. He watched him go with a frown, wondering if they were about to be swindled, when he caught Rodney reaching for the third cup between them. He snatched his wrist quickly and held it away.

“Hey!” Rodney whined, tugging ineffectually at his grip.

“Share, McKay,” he teased and dragged the cup over next to his own untouched tankard. The scientist bristled and flailed emphatically with his free hand.

“You’ve still got a whole cup left!”

Sheppard leaned back cockily and smirked, the crooked, smarmy one he had discovered over the last few weeks had the power to drive Rodney absolutely crazy.

“What have you got to trade for it?” he asked in the same bland tone they’d been hearing from the stall owners all day.

Rodney’s eyes fixed on his mouth and his gaze darkened, his own lips pouting out in contemplation. John had just enough time to feel the anticipation flutter in his gut before Rodney leaned over to kiss him soundly in the middle of the tavern.

Normally, he wasn’t really one for public displays of affection, the whole ‘feelings ew’ thing instilled in him from a loveless childhood and years of repression within the military structure, but he enjoyed revelling in the freedom that he was now allowed here in the wilds of the Pegasus Galaxy. They had been to more than a few harvest festivals that ended with people disappearing together behind tent flaps and cabin doors, a life spent with the threat of death ever looming removing any restraint when it came to finding happiness in any form, be it physical or emotional. Nobody held any grudges about where you found your comfort as long as, when the time came, you stood by each other and protected those that needed it.

It was an attitude that John had spent a good portion of their year in Pegasus wishing his own military shared. Now, he didn’t have to care either way. He wasn’t military anymore.

The thought dimmed some of the excitement he felt at the warm press of Rodney’s lips against his, enough that he wasn’t so distracted as to miss the slide of his palm across the table just as his fingers closed around the handle of the cup. He tried to reach with his other hand but Rodney beat him to it, snatching the tankard back over to his side of the table and leaning back with a triumphant “Ha!”.

Rodney grinned as he downed the cup just as he had the first. The man seated behind him laughed at John’s slightly betrayed expression and thumped Rodney on the back heartily, causing him to choke on the ale and turn to berate the smiling man for making him waste precious alcohol.

John watched the whole exchange with a smile hidden behind his own cup, the darkness that had been creeping into his thoughts eased in the face of Rodney’s irate tirade. He slipped his grip from McKay’s wrist up to his hand and laced their fingers together, settling in to watch the show as the barman came back with a scrap of parchment in his hands.

…

They’d stayed for a few more tankards of ale and to just enjoy the company of other people after months of it being just the two of them. Rodney had somehow managed to befriend the guy from the bar, a bear of man named Augustern who found the rambling scientist amusing and witty despite his acerbic nature. John had watched in fascination as the two of them got progressively drunker and freer with the debates they traded back and forth.

Like most of galaxy, Augustern was not particularly in tune with the sciences but he was clever in his own way, enough that McKay had deigned to give him some of his attention as the man related his own experiences with the Wraith and his life as a farmer before his world had caught their eye.

From there, they had rapidly started descending into the maudlin levels of drunkenness when Sheppard, more than a few cups deep himself, had decided to call it a night, guiding Rodney to an upright position and bidding their new friend farewell.

Augustern pursed his lips, looking them over blearily. He seemed to see something in the way Sheppard stood that met with his approval. He nodded decisively and reached into his own pocket, producing a small notebook and a stick of charcoal. He scratched down a ‘gate address, ripped out the page and held it out to John.

“Here, if you ever get tired of your little history trip…” he glanced at the bartender who appeared busy counting the bottles still on his shelf but whose posture had a definite rigidity that spoke of close attention. “…come and find me. Whether the people of this galaxy know it or not, there’s a war going on.” His voice rose slightly, enough that the other patrons in the tavern could hear, and John saw more than one of them wince and look back to their drinks in shame. Augustern turned back to John, eyes much clearer than they had been and grin more feral. “If you ever decide to put those skills to good use, I’d be more than happy to give you a hand. Never can kill enough Wraith on my own.”

He opened his mouth to deny it, to claim that they were simply traders just like everyone else in the settlement, but Augustern stood, the sudden movement cutting him off. He clapped Rodney on the shoulder again, staggering him into John’s side.

“It has been interesting, Doctor, Sheppard. I hope to see you both again someday.”

With that, he turned and marched out of the building and John noticed for the first time the clipped, confident gait he had grown used to seeing over the last decade and a half. The walk of a man who was armed and knew how to protect himself combined with the raised chin and squared shoulders of pride. It was a military walk if ever he’d seen one.

Rodney hummed against his shoulder, where he’d stayed since he’d fallen.

“That guy’s a real pain in the ass,” he slurred. “Doesn’t know a capacitor from a cucumber.”

Sheppard huffed out a laugh and hitched Rodney’s loose body higher, gathering their bags from the floor and heading toward the door.

“What does that even mean? And I thought you liked him,” he answered as he shouldered through the growing mass of people who had gathered inside as the light faded, finally escaping outside into the cooling air.

“I do. Doesn’t mean he’s not a pain in the ass. You’re a pain in the ass too, literally and figuratively,” he announced, stumbling over the longer words and uneven path in equal measure.

John felt the alcohol settle heavily in the base of his stomach. Rodney was drunk, he didn’t mean to say it, but that didn’t stop John from hearing it. He knew he had been a lot of work for Rodney, between breaking him out and taking care of him and even before that, when he touched something he shouldn’t have and Rodney had to save him. From the moment he sat in that chair in Antarctica, Rodney had been watching his back. He didn’t know why he did that. John was just a solider, a flyboy with a spotty record and a mutant gene that had thrust him into the spotlight and a job he wasn’t entirely prepared for.

The insecurities that had been bouncing around in his head since he woke up in the jumper flared back to life tenfold. What did he really have to offer Rodney besides a life on the run?

He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as he kept trudging forward into the forest, McKay clinging like a limpet to his shoulder. His mind was a stormy mess by the time they reached the indented clearing where the jumper sat. He fumbled the remote out of one of the pockets in his new belt and decloaked it, the hatch opening slowly. Schrodinger wandered out of the brush like he’d been waiting for them and strolled inside the lit cabin, walking to the pilot’s chair and climbing on without even a backward glance, asleep in seconds.

Rodney laughed loosely.

“Spoiled cat, didn’t even miss me,” he smiled and pushed himself upright to follow it, John hovering at his back just in case he tripped.

The ‘jumper had become somewhat cluttered in the few weeks they’d been living out of it, boxes of supplies piled to one side and nets overflowing with ‘retsa’, loose wires dangling from open conduits as McKay pulled apart, tweaked and reassembled the little ship one panel at a time. To the left, where once there’d been a bench seat like it’s mirror, John had helped Rodney remove the metal frame and replace it with a loose pile of blankets and old clothes that had become their bed. It was tidier than it had been when they started out. Since they had begun their relationship properly, one of the two sleeping bags had been turned cotton side out and stuffed with rags and straw, creating a rather lumpy yet bearable mattress. It wasn’t exactly wide but then they never really slept far enough apart for it to matter.

Rodney was already stripped out of his coat and working on his new boots while John stood on the ramp looking at him, not sure why all of a sudden he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to come inside. He finally wrestled the last buckle open and kicked the boots away, then he stared down at their pile of blankets. His brows lowered slowly, a dark frown coming to his features. John watched in confusion as he lowered himself to his knees amongst the blankets, fingers ghosting over one of Sheppard’s old jackets that they’d bundled up as a pillow. That’s when he noticed the sad, defeated slope of his shoulders.

“Rodney?” he asked cautiously.

He jerked like he’d been shot and span to look at him, eyes wide and surprised.

“John,” he breathed and then shook himself awake. “Sorry, I just… I forgot you were there for a second.”

“I practically had to drag you here, where else would I be?” he huffed amusedly. Rodney turned back to the bed and shuffled some of the blankets around.

“Anywhere, I guess, I don’t know,” he mumbled and flopped down onto his back, arm thrown over his eyes.

John frowned at him because that didn’t make any sense. It almost sounded like Rodney expected him to leave, like John was the one who had other options and could just go whenever he wanted, when the exact opposite was true. Rodney had given up so much and, like he said, John was a pain in the ass. It didn’t make any sense to him and the question that had been stirring in the back of his mind since he first woke up in the jumper roared to the surface, unchecked in the face of Rodney’s rare drunken honesty.

“I… Why did you do it, Rodney?” he asked stiffly, his hands balled at his sides. He was still standing on the ramp, an easy getaway path in the forest around him, not that he would ever take it but having the option comforted him.

Rodney waved his hand vaguely above him, eyes still covered.

“Why did I do what, Sheppard? I do many, many important things including _sleeping_ which you seem determined to prevent me from accomplishing,” he groused.

John swallowed and looked down at the metal beneath his feet, feeling the alcohol and stew that Augustern had treated them to roiling painfully in his stomach.

“Why did you break me out of prison?”

He could see Rodney go still on the bedroll, his arm lifting off his face to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” he said incredulously. At John’s jerky nod he dragged himself into a sitting position, swaying slightly. “Would you rather I left you to die in that sorry excuse for an infirmary?”

“No, of course not! I just…” He made a distressed noise low in his throat and shifted, falling into parade rest without thought. “I’m a pain in the ass.”

“Yes…” Rodney said slowly as if talking to a particularly dense child.

“And Earth is home and you have family there and I just don’t know if you thought all of this through,” he finished stiltedly.

Rodney huffed and rolled his eyes, the motion nearly sending him sprawling.

“Of course I didn’t think it through.”

John felt ice settle into his veins. Of course, of _course_ Rodney hadn’t known what he was doing. This was all a gigantic mistake, one he regretted because he’d ruined his life for John and he’d lost all of his research, his future, and now they were stuck in the middle of nowhere. He could have kicked himself for being such an idiot. He had to go call Atlantis and tell them that this wasn’t Rodney’s fault and maybe they’d take him back. He was so vital to the Expedition, he was sure that Elizabeth would fight for his return.

John had already taken half a step backwards when he continued.

“But that’s just what you do to me. I had at least three plans better than this! We could have had so much more time to prepare. I had supplies stashed away but I didn’t have time to get to Vancouver, what with you _dying,_ god, you couldn’t have given me two more days?” Rodney ranted, arms even more active with his drunken state.

John froze, taking it in.

“How many plans did you have, exactly?” he asked slowly, still desperately trying to understand.

Rodney hummed thoughtfully.

“I think I was up to J or, no, maybe K. K was the one that involved going public about the Stargate,” he answered with a furrowed brow. “We ended up doing E. H would have been more fun. Do you think the IOA would have let Atlantis declare independence?”

“Oh,” John answered eloquently.

He couldn’t wrap his mind around Rodney wanting to do this still, to have him think about all the ways he could do it and what it would mean and doing it anyway. John didn’t know if he was worth the world but, for whatever reason, Rodney seemed to think so.

He finally walked into the jumper, closing the hatch behind him.

“Rodney, I just want you to know that I’m grateful. After everything you gave up, I’m really grateful, beyond grateful and I-“

“Grateful?” he repeated, and John could practically see the alcohol leave his system. “Please tell me this is not some sort of… It is! You think you owe me something. You have been acting sort of… Wait. Is that… is that why you’ve been sleeping with me? Because you think…? Oh, no…”

Rodney launched himself to his feet and staggered back to the hatch, a hand to his mouth like he was going to be sick. John grabbed his hand before it could reach the control, spinning him back to face him though he wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey, no,” he said emphatically. “ _No,_ absolutely not. I _am_ grateful but,” he pulled Rodney closer, his unresisting body moulding to Sheppard’s perfectly, the close proximity forcing him to look at his face, see the open want, “I’m sleeping with you for purely selfish reasons, believe me.”

Rodney didn’t quite look convinced, so John pulled him in for a kiss, trying to express all the emotions he didn’t have words for. The sweetness of the stew masked the bitter flavour of the ale that still clung to his tongue and beyond it, something distinctly _Rodney_ and John made it his mission to chase it, diving deeper, pulling him closer.

“I— okay,” said Rodney, when they broke for air. “You make a very compelling argument. But you’re still-”

“A pain in the ass?” he finished wryly. Rodney’s answering smile was dark and wolfish.

“Literally. One that I’d very much like to feel again,” he replied with a nip to John’s lower lip that caused a pleasant shudder to roll down his spine. He sealed their lips together again, but too soon Rodney pulled away. “Can we go to sleep now? I’m way too exhausted and drunk to be having conversations this serious.”

John chuckled and pushed him back toward the bed as he stripped out of his own clothes before climbing in behind him, settling with an arm looped around his waist and his face buried in the back of his neck. The puddle jumper’s lights dimmed as Rodney leaned back against him.

“And for the record?” McKay said drowsily, his hand wrapping around John’s where it rested on his stomach. “Earth isn’t my home and I didn’t give up anything. If I had to do it all again, _I would.”_

John felt the last of the doubt and dread in his gut slide away. He pressed a fierce kiss to Rodney’s shoulder and pulled him impossibly closer.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the dark of the cabin, lost in the soft snores already drifting up beside him.

If Rodney thought he was worth the world, then he guessed he’d just have to live up to that.


End file.
